


The Guessing Game

by Gorgeous Nerd (gorgeousnerd)



Category: Dead Like Me
Genre: Community: Sweet Charity, Gen, New Year's Resolutions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-31
Updated: 2009-05-31
Packaged: 2017-10-09 02:27:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/81974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gorgeousnerd/pseuds/Gorgeous%20Nerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Why Rube doesn't talk about upper management.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Guessing Game

**Author's Note:**

> This was one of the stories I wrote for the Spring 2009 round of [Sweet Charity](http://www.sweet-charity.net) at the request of misuran, the winning bidder. This also fulfilled a request for [New Year's Resolutions 2009](http://www.yuletidetreasure.org/archive/86/theguessing.html). Originally posted on [LiveJournal](http://community.livejournal.com/chomalfoyfics/13895.html) and [Dreamwidth](http://firmament.dreamwidth.org/7398.html).

"If you're so curious, why don't you just _ask_ him?" Roxy had one hand on her gun and another on her fork.

Rube stopped in his tracks, feeling the breeze behind him cut off as the door swung shut. Kiffany passed by, a tray in hand and a wry expression on her face. He raised a hand in greeting, and she nodded, then continued.

"Ask Rube?" Mason said, leaning forward. "Ask Rube? He's likely to chop my balls off if I look at him funny, never mind ask him a question."

George was facing away from Rube, but he guessed she was rolling her eyes. "God, Mason."

"So rude," Daisy said, with a shudder.

Roxy looked at the door and met Rube's eyes. She smiled with half her mouth, then said, "If you're not going to ask him, then shut the fuck up about it."

"But Roxy..."

Rube decided this was his cue. He stepped forward, and Roxy slid inward to make room. Daisy frowned at Roxy, then followed suit as Rube approached.

"Morning," Rube said, looking at Mason as he lowered onto the bench. The Naugahyde squeaked as it took his weight.

Everyone at the table replied in their fashion. George looked over at Mason and grinned.

"So, Mason," she said, saying each word deliberately as she twirled her spoon. "Got anything on your mind?"

"What, me?" He looked up at the ceiling. "Why would I have anything--"

"Why don't you spit it out so I can order?" Rube said.

Mason looked down at Rube, eyes wide. His jaw was bobbing, but only incoherent sounds came out.

Kiffany came to the table, pad in hand. He smiled up at her.

"Banana bonanza."

She nodded without another word and stepped away. Rube turned back to Mason.

"Going once..."

Mason choked. "Well--"

"Going twice..."

"Do you..." He broke off.

Rube put his datebook on the table. "Do I what?"

"Do you...have a quarter? I'm a little short."

Roxy and George groaned. Daisy raised an eyebrow, then continued to eat her fruit salad.

"He wants to know about upper management," Roxy said. "And he's too chickenshit to ask you, so he's been bothering me about it for the past week."

"Roxy shot him a couple times, too," George added, scooping up more oatmeal.

"No."

Mason frowned. "No about what, the shooting or the--"

"No, it's none of your business." Rube slid the rubber band off the datebook. "And stop annoying Roxy."

Mason threw up his hands. "Oh, come on."

"I think," Daisy said, looking over, "that we should know who we're working for."

"That's not for me to say."

"Will you tell us if we guess right?" Mason asked.

"No."

Daisy leaned in, tilting her head and speaking in a conspiratorial tone. "I did a guest role on this TV show a few years back, and--"

"You ended up blowing the producer?" Mason asked.

"No! Well, yes, but that wasn't the--"

"Will you all shut up?" Roxy shouted. "I'm trying to eat my breakfast!"

Kiffany came to the table with Rube's plate. "Thank you," he said, taking it from her.

"No problem," she replied, raising her eyebrow as she left.

The conversation continued, but it followed a different topic thanks to Roxy's no-nonsense glare. Rube ate his breakfast, distributed the Post-Its for the day, then paid the check and left.

He thought that was the end of it.

That's why he was surprised when George showed up at his apartment an hour later.

He opened the door with ink stains on his hands and a Billie Holiday record on his turntable. He grabbed a rag after he turned the knob and started to wipe his hands. George watched for a second, then glanced up.

"Can I come in?"

He stepped away from the door, and she wandered in, making a big show of looking around.

"What is it, peanut?"

George walked over to the record player and watched the vinyl turn. "I was just thinking about what Daisy said at breakfast. About knowing who we work for."

"What about it?" He had been brusque with Mason, but his tone was soft for George.

"I was driving around," she said, "picturing who the higher ups were. I hadn't really thought about it before. Angels, dead humans, toads and frogs. Mob guys with fedoras, tech guys in polos. Kids. But I thought that I'd find out when I was supposed to, and that probably isn't right now."

"So why are you here?"

"I'm here because I want to know one thing." She smiled a little. "It's none of my business, either, but I figured I'd try."

Rube nodded.

"Do you know what they're like?"

It was his turn to smile. "Maybe."

George's grin didn't drop at all. She was a smart kid.

After she left, Rube sat in his chair again and looked at his notes. Upper management insisted on the notes, even though he figured they probably had their own ways of keeping tabs on reapers. If they did, they never let on, which suited him fine. He had a job, and he did it.

One of them showed a few minutes later, exactly when Rube finished scribbling on the last of his pages. He opened the door and took the envelope with the upcoming week's reaps and handed over his ink-blotted papers, just like he did every Sunday.

"You know, you could tell them," his liaison said. "What you know."

Rube pictured George in her convertible with the top down, enjoying the summer breeze and wondering about what was to come. He thought of Roxy and the way she took the enforcer role like she was born to do it. He thought of Mason and the many ways he screwed up, Daisy and her inward focus. He even thought of Betty and Penny and some of the other reapers he knew before.

But most of all, he remembered all the years he'd wondered, and the way he still wondered. And he thought about the way he'd had to hold the hands of his reapers through so much else, and every single day he'd existed after his death, and the days to come.

He shook his head. "It's not my place."

"Suit yourself."

Rube put a new record when he was alone again, then rested his heels on his desk and forgot about the whole thing.


End file.
